Oh Draco You Naughty Thing!
by oh odette
Summary: Harry witnesses Draco having a private moment and can never look at him the same again. HarryDraco romance. Enough said.


Draco Malfoy walked quietly along the edge of the quidditch field, hidden in the dark shadows of the stands. In the moonlight the silver hoops had an eerie gleam and the whole field sparkled with dew. Draco walked carefully, stepping over small twigs so as not to make a noise. He thought about all the games he had played here and how different it looked from the ground. And that damn Harry Potter, why was he always so much better at everything? Lucius Malfoy had made that clear to his son quite some time ago, and was not about to let him forget it anytime soon.

"He defeats the greatest wizard ever known before he can walk, and for the past FOUR YEARS outshone you in any and every way, and what do you do, besides lose at quidditch and use up money? Have I really any use of you? You have yet to make my proud in all your 16 pointless years" Lucius had shouted at Draco in their most recent dispute.

"You have the best of the best and have you ever caught the damned snitch?! Potter practically flies a mop and suddenly he's a world class quidditch player!!"

"He really is talented," Draco mumbled under his breath.

"WHAT?!?" exploded his father, hurling a bottle of potion at him. Draco ducked just in time.

"You are WORTHLESS!" Lucius yelled, throwing bottle after bottle at him. Draco crouched on the floor, crying silently, holding up his hands to protect his face. The glass cut his hands and a shard cut his ear. Finally Lucius stopped. "You bore me," he snarled as he swept out of the room.

Draco shook that memory from his mind. Potter really did fly beautifully he mused sadly, gazing up at the sky. Why was he everything Draco was not? Draco filled with bitter resentment and anger towards his father and Harry. How come his father cared more about what Harry was up to and how Draco could ruin it, rather than Dracos own won glories? Not that he had any, he thought miserably.

Draco tried to figure out how he felt about Harry, but only ended up feeling more lost instead. Strange how jealousy and hate often ran hand in hand. Draco banished all these thoughts and walked on, enjoying the night. He tipped his head back and let the cool night wind ruffle his blonde hair.

Harry Potters bright green eyes stared out of the shadows at Malfoys soundless silhouette. His pace was quiet and even but the storm of emotion on his face startled Harry. To Harry, Malfoy had never seemed the type to have feelings; he was just an incessant annoyance. Right now Malfoy appeared to be having an intense battle with himself, his face was drawn and his lips were a thin line. His grey eyes darted back and forth, as if listening to two separate people and weighing each opinion. He looked as though he wanted to scream and laugh and cry and run all at once.

Malfoy drew his arms around himself and closed his eyes, a rough imitation of a hug, or a need to be contained, lest he shatter. Harry felt pity growing behind his eyes as he looked at the wretched figure before him.

Hardly knowing what he was doing, Harry pulled the invisibility cloak from the ground beside him. He tucked the marauders map into his back pocket and put the cloak on. Harry walked silently, his pace quick till he caught up with Malfoy. Harry then fell into step with him, less than an arms length away over to his right. Malfoy didn't seem to notice and together they walked towards the far end of the quidditch field. This close to Malfoy, Harry noticed things he would never see normally, the small tear at the neck of his t-shirt where he'd carelessly ripped out the tag, and the way his eyelashes were a few shades darker than his hair. The normal ready-for-battle look had gone from his face, leaving him looking lonely and defenseless, just a half grown boy in a torrent of emotions he didn't understand, or want to.

The boys walked behind the stands, covered even more by the darkness from both the stadium and the forest. Malfoy began to pace in long strides and would now and then make a frustrated noise and pull at his hair. Harry sat back and sympathized with him silently.

Finally Malfoy turned and flung himself on the ground a few feet off from Harry. The exhausted, on the verge of tears look on Malfoys face made Harry want to run to him and warp his arms around him, tell him that everything would be ok. Harry shook that thought away, after all this was _Malfoy. _You can't stand him, Harry told himself, but at the same time a small voice told him that this wasn't the Malfoy he loathed, this was Draco, a mixed up boy, just like him.

Harry sat quietly, observing the night at watching Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. He didn't know how much time had passed, but when he looked back at Malfoy, he was fast asleep, curled up inside his cloak. For some reason, this made Harry smile. He settled back against the stands and looked up at the sky.

For the remainder of the night Harry kept watch over Draco, protected him silently and invisibly. Only once did Draco cry out, putting his hands over his ears, his sleeping face showing his fear. Harry started and looked over at him, ready to fight the enemy, but once he saw Draco settle into peaceful slumber again, he relaxed again.

Harry looked out into the coming day. The birds were singing strange enchanted songs and the forest no longer looked as threatening. When the entire sky was lighted faintly, he stood up and started back to the school, reaching his room and slipping quietly into his bed. He stared at the ceiling and tried to figure out the strange night.

Draco groggily opened his eyes, wet grass sticking to his cheek. He had thought he heard something slipping quietly away from him. He must have been imagining something, he thought tiredly. He was exhausted, his clothing damp from the dew. He looked into the forbidden forest, only yards away and was startled that he had slept this close to so many unappetizing things. He had felt so safe though, he mused. "Must have been really tired," he muttered to himself. He stood up and shook himself out, then stumbled up towards the castle.

"You look like hell," Ron said cheerfully as Harry sat down to breakfast.

"Gee thanks," Harry answered, pouring cocoa and sloshing half onto the table.

"Late night, eh?" Hermoione asked. "You didn't happen to be studying or anything, did you?"

Harry shook his head tiredly.

"No, I guess that would just be unrealistic, considering we've got more huge exams in a week," Hermione said disapprovingly.

"Must've had a bad shag then, right Harry?" Ron put in grinning.

Harry laughed and took a bite of toast "yeah that was it," he said with his mouth full. He swallowed and then said, "No, I just couldn't get to sleep."

Harry looked across the hall and saw Malfoy quietly slip into the great hall. His robes were slightly crooked, and his hair stuck up in odd places. Malfoy must've caught someone looking at him oddly, for he straightened his robes and smoothed his hair in one fluid movement. Looking like his usual self, he sauntered (well, as best as one with two hours of sleep can saunter) over to his place at the table.

Harry looked away quickly and wondered if Malfoy knew Harry had been with him the entire night. Knocking over a pitcher of juice and getting several quizzical looks as well, Harry left the table.

In potions, right after he had set up his cauldron, Ron started in on the usual topic of discussion, Malfoy and his minions.

"Look at the stupid git, chopping up aardvark bladders like a... a... stupid... choppy... git" Ron began. "He thinks that just because Snape has like, some pedophile crush on him or whatever, he can do whatever he wants."

Harry gave the obligatory laugh and returned to his thoughts, zoning out on what Ron was saying. Normally he'd be all gung-ho towards complaining about Malfoy, but after what he saw that night, he couldn't bring himself to. This bothered Harry, but he couldn't shake the image of the broken Draco from his mind or of the sleeping Draco or of the pacing Draco or of the rip in the neck of his t-shirt or of...

"Well Mr. Potter... what a lovely shade of turquoise that potion is."

Harry glanced up at Snape and then down at his cauldron, the contents of which was purplish brown and burping in a repulsive manner. Snape smiled coldly, and then made the potion is Harry's cauldron disappear.

"He likes doing that, doesn't he?" grumbled Ron. Harry nodded and pushed back his hair, frustrated. He glanced at Malfoy, who sneered and turned back to his own bubbling turquoise potion.


End file.
